


Gift

by Rrrowr



Category: Glee
Genre: Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 05:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rrrowr/pseuds/Rrrowr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine gets a anonymous gift in the mail. He doesn't throw it away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift

Dalton has its own internal mailing system for the distribution of club flyers and grades and Blaine has to check his regularly at the risk of it overflowing with news. He hasn’t checked it for a few days now, so when he opens it, he isn’t surprised to find it crammed with paper and envelopes. Much of it goes into the recycling bin — single sheet advertisements for clubs he has no interest in, announcements for activities on campus, and so on — and the envelopes are grades from last week’s midterms. There’s a small manila envelope among the papers and letters and though Blaine turns it over and over, there’s nothing to lend itself to the identity of the sender.

He opens his mail when he gets home. When he finally opens the manila folder and pours its contents onto his desk, he is monumentally glad that he’s in the privacy and sanctuary of his own room. After all, he’s not really prepared with a story to explain to his parents why their gay son has women’s underwear, period.

He’s been sent the underwear as a prank. Of this, Blaine is certain. He’s heard about boys being sent a girl’s underwear as some weird sign of affection and a lot of the time, it’s been obviously worn — with the scent of arousal clinging to the cloth. Blaine’s discovered that these particular underthings are clean, though, after he’s turned it over and over on his desk through dutiful use of a mechanical pencil or two. There’s also the fact that the tag is still on them (minus the price, which has been ripped away).

It’s sort of like the underwear is a gift, actually, which is kind of intriguing in its own way.

Blaine slumps in his desk chair and stares at the underwear for a while. They’re kind of nice looking, really. Navy blue cotton and lace that squares off the top. When he finally brings himself to touch them, they’re soft too. Like _really_ soft. Like hell, he didn’t think cotton ever felt that soft ever and clearly this must be the reason why women were consumed with Victoria’s Secret’s products because _damn_ , if he were a girl he’d wear stuff like this all the time.

Blaine goes still when he realizes the way his mind is going and then, with a boldness, thinks: _Why the hell not._

If he’s going to do this, he might as well do it right. Blaine closes the curtains in his room and makes sure that the bedroom door is locked. Then he takes off his clothes while he looks at the underwear lying on his desk. Putting them on takes a lot of nerve, he finds. He has to hold them open with his fingers and his nails catch in the lace and his leg hair gets pulled by the cloth and every instance makes his mind scream because what the hell is he doing, christ.

In the last moment though, when his fingers are pulling the elastic waist around his hips and straightening out the furls in the lace, there’s only the cool soft cloth against his skin and the distinct feeling of his dick being held tighter against his body than it ever would be with briefs. It’s sort of like having a hand there — like his own, lifting him up and holding him there — which is sort of weird in this kind of nice way.

He turns to look at the mirror — the full length one that’s pinned to the far wall — and he can see himself from top to bottom. He’s dark hair and tan skin and he’s decidedly boy from the hair on his chest to the treasure trail that leads straight to the strip of lace wrapped around his hips. It’s a little strange to see himself, he admits. Boy’s hips are higher than women’s, so the lace doesn’t rest where it should to be aesthetically pleasing. He looks good, though. He likes the way he can see his hair peeking through the blue lace and the way the cloth seems to strain to cover his dick. It sort of narrows his mind’s focus in that way and suddenly he feels undeniably sexy because he’s wearing women’s underwear.

Sexy and sort of... sort of _rebellious._

Which is why, when he hears his father’s car pull into the driveway a few minutes later, Blaine pulls on a pair of low-slung jeans and a t-shirt and has a perfectly pleasant dinner with his dad, smiling the whole damn time.

**Author's Note:**

> In my brain, the anonymous gifter is totally Thad.


End file.
